


Anemophily

by kore_rising



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:44:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kore_rising/pseuds/kore_rising
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an extraction on the head scientist of a bioengineering company, Ariadne and Arthur are exposed to the pollen of a genetically engineered grass that creates some extreme physical reactions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anemophily

Ariadne noticed the reaction first.

It was an itch, no, a tingle under the bared skin on her neck. She had reached up to touch it, thinking it was an insect she needed to swat away, but the brush of her hand sent a sudden pleasant shiver down her chest. Her hand lingered, and suddenly she was remembering how sensitive her neck could be to kisses, nips, even the warm rush of breath. How much she enjoyed the feeling of her skin being touched by lips, tongue, hands. The feeling of another body against her own, wrapped in a hot, desperate tangle. Her pulse sped up at that thought, but the train of images was suddenly derailed by Arthur’s voice cutting across her meanderings.

 

“Ariadne?”

  
He sounded sharp, tense and agitated even though when she caught sight of his face in the rear view mirror it was a steady, impassive neutral. He pushed the engine hard through another gear change, and for another moment, longer this time, she tracked the grip of his hand on the stick shift, the backwards motion of his arm from the tight clench of his fist to the smooth slide of his shoulder, then his hand back to the wheel. Tight, pale knuckled, the angle of his thumb jutting out.  _Arthur’s hands on her skin, rough callouses catching against the smooth curves of her bones; tracing loops around her nipples with his fingers; brushing over the curve of her ass to pull her to him; rubbing her-_

 

“Ariadne!”

  
He snapped her name out this time, and she shook herself hard.  _Getting clear of a mark was the last time to be sexually fantasising_ , she disciplined herself,  _pay some **fucking**  attention_. She twisted further around in the passenger seat of the SUV, her gun in her hand, scanning the road behind them as they sped away from the rural compound where they’d just completed their current job.

“No sign of anyone,” she replied shortly.

 

Arthur didn't reply or relax. His back stayed ramrod straight, his face fixed in tight lines. But then this job had had him so on edge he was unlikely to unwind until they'd reported their findings and got the hell out of Dodge for good.

 

The extraction had called for them to work on a high ranking biogeneticist working on a new set of plant splices allegedly destined for pharmacological use. Their employer was anxious to see what progress his competition was making, but due to the secretive nature of the research it had become clear the only option was to infiltrate the company compound and extract there. Once it was decided, Arthur had been even more exacting than usual in obtaining cover identities for them, researching the mark and those around him and creating a seamless plan for getting them in and out of the closely monitored compound. He had stripped every aspect of the extraction down to its foundations and rebuilt it, making it as contingency ready as he could. Ariadne had let him deconstruct her mazes with far less than her usual bridling, watching him checking each loop and trap as thoroughly as he’d ever done. She let him build in more secret weapons caches. She stood with him in dream buildings and insubstantial meadows as he insisted on more complex and intricate architecture than ever before. She worked until she fell asleep with visions of infinite reflections and optical illusions behind her eyes, only to wake up groggy with converging lines and shifting shadows.

 

“Why are you so worried?” She had asked after one particularly enervating day. “This isn’t any harder than any other extraction, is it?”

Arthur had put down his forkful of Indian takeout, and studied her across the table.

“This guy,” he replied slowly, “he’s not working on some super yielding crop or drought resistant strain of something. He’s working on plants with psychoactive properties.  
That doesn’t just mean drug use. That could mean defense applications.”

“Weaponized plants?” Ariadne heard the incredulity in her own voice.

“Look, imagine a plant that produces pollen identical to another plant, like wheat, but with a few manipulations to its genes. It fertilises the wheat, but the seeds it produces are small, or barely edible, or sterile, or all three. Now imagine you’ve got a regime resisting you. Or you’re in a war. You break the food chain with it. Releasing pollen or planting a field of this is clean, it has no collateral damage and it’s harder to pin the blame on you and create more resistance. Sure, you have to wait a while, but a hungry man is far more pliable and likely to surrender. ” Arthur tore off a chunk of naan bread and raised his eyebrows at her. “Scorched Earth,” he said calmly, “without the fire.”

“OK, I understand. But this isn’t that,” Ariadne pushed as Arthur chewed his morsel. "You wouldn't be insisting on preparations like this," she gestured to her models, the mazes interlocking and looping in to themselves until it made even her eyes water. "Not for something like that."

 

Arthur looked down at his plate, then back up at her. He looked straight into her eyes as he answered, just as he always did when she pushed him to be more honest. At first it had felt like a challenge to her, a dare to look into the abyss. Now it was comforting, a sign he wasn't deceiving her like he could the rest of the world.

“No. This is,” he took a deep breath, “this could be flowers that produce nectar that results in a dissociative compound in honey. This could be more powerful opiates that could be used to control the drug trade. This could be concentrated hallucinogens that only require the briefest skin contact to enter the body. This could be any number of things,” he held her look, “and I am not taking any chances.”

 

Things had run as smoothly as they’d planned, right up until they were leaving the mark’s office. Ariadne was winding up the PASIV leads when a sudden clatter of footsteps had come across the lab, then a sharp knock at the door. Arthur had reacted instantly, pulling them both down behind the mark's desk. They crouched there frozen, waiting for the eternity it took for whomever was outside to knock again, then pull out their cellphone and make a call.

  
“Have you seen Caestecker?” A crisp female voice said. Ariadne felt Arthur tense at her side.

“No, he’s not answering. Check his passkey log,” she paused, “I see. I see. Yes. No, I’ll call them. Thank you.” The footsteps moved away, the lab door swung shut, and in that second Arthur was on his feet.

 

“Come on,” he whispered sharply, opening the office door and making to cross the lab, just as more voices came from the hall outside, purposeful steps headed in their direction. Ariadne shot Arthur a look just in time to see the fleeting angry twist of his mouth before he changed direction, taking her hand and making for the greenhouse that adjoined the lab.

 

For all the talk of weaponization or super psychoactives, the greehouse was small, and what it contained were long benches with ordered ranks of apparently identical grasses. Long, thin leaves topped by a stem with a cloudy puff of fibres, no more menacing than a garden weed. In the sunlight pouring in from the glass roof and the gentle motion of the air conditioning soft clouds of dusty, golden pollen floated in lazy, syrupy swirls. The only sign it might be anything other than benign was the set of airlock doors isolating the plants from the lab.

For once in her life, Ariadne hesitated. “Those aren’t-” she started, alarm in her voice.

Arthur swung round, his eyes darting to the lab door. “No,” he insisted sharply, “they’re a early stage hybrid in concentrating active compounds in the green tissues. Don’t touch them.”

He pushed open the first door and hurried her inside. Sealed in there was a cold blast of air around them, then the second door released with a thunk, and they were in the warm, sweet scented greenhouse.

“Get down,” he urged, making her scurry along, bent over at the waist until he pulled her under a counter, into a gap between a fridge and the solid wall, tucked out of sight. They were crammed in, far too close for comfort, when the lab door opened.

 

“Dr. Caestecker?” this time the voice was male. “Check his office. You, check the grow room.”

Arthur swallowed, and Ariadne saw his hand moving to the small of his back. The outer door opened with a rush of air, slammed and sealed.  _Oh God_ , Ariadne felt herself inhale sharply, panic biting into her mind. Beside her Arthur twisted himself into a crouch, his face set tight. She had no idea she was holding her breath until a second voice called out.

“He’s here! He’s fallen, I think.”

 

There was a flurry of footsteps and the woman’s voice came again. “Get him off the floor. In here, come on.”

 

Arthur caught her eyes, watching her as they listened. There was shuffling, and an audible groan then a third male voice, groggy and urgent, “Noo, no, no! Not in the grow room!”

“Doctor, please, sit down,” someone urged.

“Don’t go in there. Releasing pollen. ‘nother twelve hours,” Dr. Caestecker insisted drunkenly. “Don’t contaminate. Clean room.”

“What’s he talking about?” The second man spoke again.

“That’s above your pay grade,” the woman snapped, just as Dr. Caestecker spoke again.

“S’good though. Like mice,” he snorted with laughter. “No, no, no! Rabbits! Boing! Boing! Boing! All night and all day! No work, all play. No dull Jacks after a sniff of that!” He started to giggle again, and the woman tutted in frustration.

“Shit. You, out of the airlock,” she barked, “you, get him to medical. If he’s drunk, then sober him up and remind him who he works for. You, find out how he managed to get in this state without anyone noticing until now. I want a report by tomorrow morning.”There was a murmur of assent, then the painful slow steps of a woozy man being lead across the lab, giggling and sing songing “rabbits!” to himself every step. The lab door slammed, and silence fell again. Arthur held up his finger to his lips, then cautiously shifted to get a better view, creeping out by increments.

 

“Clear, lets go,” he said softly after a long moment. Ariadne crawled out, willing herself to stay calm and collected as they went back through the airlock and its impossibly noisy cycle, through the lab and out into quiet corridor beyond.

 

 

“What do you think he meant?” She asked softly as they broke into a purposeful walk, just two more suits going about their business. “About the pollen?”

“There was no indication in the data or his head it was toxic, or produced any overtly negative effects,” Arthur murmured, “just a note it might be an allergen.”

“Like hay fever?”

“I think so,” he shot a brief look up at the ceiling. “They’ll have the cameras back any moment.  We need to be out of here,” he glanced over at her quickly, lengthening his stride, “before they sober up Caestecker and start looking for us.” Ariadne swallowed the questions crowding into her head about the plants and the pollen and forced herself to nod. Arthur was right. They could deal with anything else once they were safely elsewhere.

 

  
“The footage loops should keep them guessing for a while though, right?” Ariadne matched his pace and saw his wry smile. He hefted the PASIV, wrapped in a the camouflage of a regular black leather briefcase, into his other hand.

“I’ll settle for it keeping them guessing until we’re past security.”

 

~*~

 

The drive back to their base was tense and, for Ariadne at least, increasingly uncomfortable. Her body felt as if it was getting more sensitive with every passing second. The fabric of her shirt on her chest and arms was a whisper of touch that felt as if she was being stroked, but in a maddenly gentle, soft and persistent way. Her neck was tickling when her hair brushed it, the way it did when she would pull a boyfriend’s mouth to kiss it. Her legs kept pressing and rubbing together, the shiver of her pantyhose sliding over itself making her want to writhe in her seat. Her breasts were warm, heavy and tingling in her bra, her nipples hardening against the fine lace. She was desperate to touch them, to pinch or tease, or have Arthur lick and suckle them while he fingered her, rubbed her clit with his thumb. She wanted him to rip off her pantyhose, then her panties and bra. She wanted him to fuck her like he fought projections, fired guns and wore his clothes, hard and precise and—

 

“Oh shit,” she cursed under her breath and dug the heel of her right shoe into the tender arch of her left foot to make the thoughts stop.

“What is it?” Arthur said sharply. “Ariadne, are you OK?”

She turned to look at him, and the second she did it was if she had developed tunnel vision. Her hyper aware senses were sucking him in and refusing to let her look away. His hands on the wheel were near on white knuckled, she noticed, but his face was bright, almost flushed in the cheeks. He was breathing in hard, then out in controlled drafts of air; his jaw tight, and when she glanced down (more sexual images tried to push into the front of her brain and she shoved them away, tearing her eyes from his lap) his entire body was tense and rigid in his seat. His tongue kept swiping at his lips, then he would swallow as if his mouth was dry. He did it four, maybe five times, before he grabbed at his collar and loosened his tie. Even with her staring at him he didn’t so much as move his eyes from the road ahead, as if he dare not break his concentration for a second.

 

  
“I’m fine,” she shot back, forcing herself to turn her head and stare out of the passenger window.  _Just drive_ , she wanted to yell, _just get us back so I can get out of this car, lock myself in my room and masturbate this all out of my head so I don’t make a pass at you and screw this all up_. Instead Ariadne clenched her fists, shut her eyes and forced herself to breathe slowly. Arthur said nothing else, just accelerated the SUV with a fierce roar of the engine, barrelling them down the freeway as if all the devils of hell were giving chase.

 

The apartment that they were using as a base was in a small complex, tucked in at the side of a suburban street. Arthur pulled off the road into the parking lot with a sudden twist of the wheel, making Ariadne start as he all but careened into their spot and slammed on the parking brake.

“We need to get inside,” he bit out as he yanked the PASIV out of the back seat, “I can’t—” he broke off and drew in a huge breath.

“Arthur?” Ariadne tried to reach out and touch his arm, trying to keep herself from the base images that provoked, but he shrank from her touch as if she was toxic.

“Come on,” he said desperately, not even looking in her direction, “we need to contact Hamilton. I’ve got to get some water,” he added, grabbing his collar again and rubbing his neck. “I’ve got to— Shit!” The word tore out of him as he turned and strode away from her.

 

Ariadne made to follow, but another sudden wave of sensations flooded her body and left her slumped back against the side of the SUV.  _She should go after him_ , she thought in a daze,  _she should find out what was wrong_. _She wasn’t thinking straight, she needed to tell him and_ —  _oh fuck, she needed to touch herself_. She felt wet and over stimulated, and all she wanted was one little touch, just to get off before her body caught fire or killed her with its desperation.

 

She managed to pull herself away, up the stairs and to the apartment only by promising herself she would satisfy her need as soon as she was alone. She unlocked the door with clumsy fingers, slammed then bolted and chained it behind her. She could hear Arthur in the kitchen, his voice agitated as he talked into his cell. He’d evidently entered in a hurry; his tie had been dropped on one of the easy chairs, his jacket had been flung next to it and the PASIV left carelessly on the floor.

 

“No, I don’t!” She heard Arthur’s voice rise. “You fucking tell me what the fuck I should— Yusuf! No, no; There was nothing!” There was a sharp crack, as his fist was meeting something solid. Arthur swore again, then there was the sound of the faucet running and him desperately gulping down water.

 

  
_Why was he calling Yusuf? She’d ask him in a minute_ , Ariadne thought through her haze, unbuttoning her jacket and throwing it next to his.  _Just as soon as she’d sorted herself out_ , she decided, rubbing her breasts through her shirt and nearly moaning at the sensation. She kicked off her shoes, her legs feeling strangely wobbly, and half ran to her room, falling back against the door once it was closed. She could still hear Arthur through the walls, talking and spitting out the odd curse, and the mere idea of him made her shiver.

“OK, OK,” she gasped to herself, swallowing hard, and made for her closet, yanking out her suitcase and jerking it open. She pulled aside her laundry bag and snatched out the zip case that was lying underneath. Pulling it open with her fingers still shaking, she took out her vibrator and flicked it on. The bright pink fake dick obligingly trembled and shook in her hand. Thank God, the batteries were still good.

 

Ariadne pulled herself to her feet, and stumbled towards the bed, unbuttoning her shirt with her free hand. She fell onto the mattress, wriggling around to pull her skirt up, kicking at the comforter and pushing her left hand into her bra in a desperate rush. Her brain was slurring through images now, of Arthur and her naked and pleasuring each other in as many different ways as she had ever thought of; offering herself and taking him while their hands and mouths did wicked things. “Oh God,” she moaned to herself, arching her back and pressing the vibrator against herself, feeling it through her panties. “Oh God,” she pleaded again, as she tweaked her nipple and in her head Arthur looked up at her and moaned—

 

“Ariadne?”

 

  
Oh shit, had he heard her? The fucking walls of this place were so thin. Ariadne wanted to scream, she was so close to the orgasm she wanted. She turned off the vibrator and stuffed it under her pillow.

“Yes, Arthur?” She managed between breaths.

“Ariadne,” he sounded strained and desperate, “we need to talk. Right now.”

“Just a moment,” she fumbled her shirt closed and clambered off the bed, her body still sensitive and hot against her rearranging her clothes. She was far too aware that her face was pink and her hair falling in messy locks from where she’d writhed against her sheets, but she couldn’t take the time to fix it and not risk making Arthur suspicious.

 

She opened her door and there was he was, shirt open at his neck, his hair looking as if he’d been running his hands through it and looking good enough to devour. She could even smell him, like soap, musk and skin, and it was making her mouth water. But he was still tense and flushed, and looking determinedly looking down, right at her feet, as if the sight of her was too much to bear.

 

“Ariadne,” he said slowly, as if each word was an effort. “The pollen we were exposed to. I asked Yusuf to recheck the data from the trial for me. The allergic reaction it causes,” he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “The hormone levels in mammal subjects; it increases libido and arousal. It can lower inhibitions and inhibit analytical thought.”

“They got all that from rabbits?” She managed, trying to swallow her shock. Shit, that explained it, all of it, the raging urge inside her, the sensitivity. From a plant, a fucking plant. “What can we do? Take a couple of Allereaze?”

“No. Look, there was a human trial. I missed it in Caestecker’s files. They—” he exhaled with forced calm. “I’m having a reaction, Ariadne. It started on the way here. I need you to lock me in my bedroom. It’ll pass in twenty nine hours and then we’ll both be safe.” He said firmly.

 

“But Arthur—” She started, and suddenly his control snapped. He grabbed her arm and then he was staring right at her, the fiercely focused soldier warring with the beast trying to escape from its cage. She was suddenly aware of his size and strength compared to her, and of the subtle tremble in his grip where he was restraining himself from squeezing any tighter. The fear and arousal spiked inside her in spite of herself, leaving her speechless.

“Just do what I’m asking, Ariadne!” He spat. “I am not safe to anyone like this, least of all you. I can, I might, genuinely hurt you and I will not allow that.” He let her go abruptly, unholstered his Glock and ejected the magazine.

“Take it,” he said shortly, holding the gun out by the barrel. Once she had, he took her pistol from his trouser pocket and did the same. “I’ll keep the bullets. Its better that we’re not armed if we can’t think clearly. Now, lock me in.” He said firmly, opening the door opposite hers.

 

  
“Arthur,” her voice came back with sudden strength, “I’m having a reaction too.”

He turned in the doorway, the strain telling in every line of his body. “All the more reason to do this. My job is to keep you safe. I have to keep you safe. Especially when the threat to you is from me. Lock the door,” he reiterated firmly, giving her one last look before he pushed it shut.

 

  
Ariadne put out her hand and briefly rested it on the door knob. She could argue, wrench open the door and demand Arthur stop treating her like a china doll. But she had seen the fear, felt it in him. With the last scrap of her not clouded with arousal, she turned the key.

 

~*~

 

Ariadne went back to her bed and laid down. Twenty nine hours and this would be over, she told herself.  _Twenty nine hours in the grip of this desperation_ , her body countered, and a new wave of desire rose up. She’d been so close to Arthur’s body, close enough to reach out and touch him. Her skin was alight with feeling again at simply recalling his smell. She moaned to herself, and groped under her pillow for her vibrator. How had it come to this? One kiss a year ago that had come to nothing because?  _Make all the excuses you want, Ariadne,_  she sneered at herself,  _tell yourself you were too busy working. Tell yourself it was because you didn’t want to ruin your team dynamic. Tell yourself that he wasn’t flirting with you. You didn’t do anything because you were scared of what might happen if you did. Better to bring a vibrator on trips so you could do yourself behind closed doors while you thought about him. Better to pretend it would never work. Better to convince yourself it was just a crush, or a phase or anything other than real desire. Better to stay detached and professional, to maintain a remote exterior than_  give in _._

 

She pressed the toy against herself, the need for relief to drown out the need in her body and the truth in her head so urgent it almost hurt.

“Oh God,” she pleaded out loud, “Please!” She grabbed her right breast and squeezed, the sensation shooting through her like a shockwave as unbidden she imagined his hand on her, his eyes full of need for her, watching her.

“Arthur,” she gasped without thinking, “Arthur please I—”

Her back arched, the pulse of her orgasm taking over for a wonderful second before she fell back, almost wailing over how brief it had been. Not enough. She felt like she was going to burn up or go mad from the craving crawling under her skin. And Arthur only feet away, feeling the same or worse. She couldn’t leave him to this alone. She couldn’t face it alone. Fuck him and his rules, and fuck hers too.

 

She pulled herself up, and tottered across the floor. She put her hand out to knock, but instead found herself pressing her palms, then her forehead, then herself against the door. The wood was cool on her skin, pressing against where her shirt had gaped open. She could hear the TV turned down low in the room beyond. Perhaps he’d found an adult channel somehow, or something in their basic cable that was just enough to help.

“Arthur?” She called quietly, “Arthur?”

There was a rustle of sheets, then his voice so close he must have been right up against the door too.

“Ariadne,” he sounded pained. “Are you alright? I heard you call me.”

“I’m fine,” she heard her voice shake, “Arthur, I know think if you come out here you might hurt me,”

“I’m not in control. I can’t—”

“Shut up, alright Arthur? Just shut up and listen to me!” she banged her fist on the door, “I trust you. I know that you won’t hurt me if I ask you not to. I know you, Arthur. I know you won’t.”

“I can’t be sure.”

“I can,” Ariadne took a deep breath, “If we, we help each other, do you promise that you won’t hurt me? I can’t do this on my own. I need,” she felt her throat catch, “I need you.”

“Ariadne,” he broke off, “Oh God, Ariadne. I need you too.”

“Do you promise?”

She heard him stifle a moan and the sound went straight through her. “Arthur?”

“I promise.”

 

Ariadne reached down, turned the key and pushed the door open, not caring that her shirt was hanging open or her skirt falling down.

Arthur was standing right in front of her. And he was completely naked.

 

The desire burning in her brain turned into a roaring inferno. Naked, lean and long muscled, his skin glowing with sweat and his erection flat against his stomach. Hair mussed and falling out of place, and his face, staring at her open mouthed and wide eyed as if he couldn’t believe she was in front of him. There was another spike of anxiety in her gut; she’d never seen him look so undone and for a moment she almost doubted herself for having this idea in the first place. But she trusted him, she reminded herself, and he trusted her.

 

“Lie on the bed,” she instructed, reaching back, unzipping her skirt and tossing it on the floor. Arthur backed up slowly, not taking his eyes from her as she approached him, dropping her shirt, then ripping her pantyhose in trying to get them off to fast.

“Hold the headboard,” she told him firmly as he lay back. “You’re not allowed to let go unless I say you can.”

“OK,” Arthur swallowed hard as she unclipped her bra and lobbed it away. “Oh God, I’ve always liked your breasts,” he groaned. “I want to suck them. I want to play with your nipples. I’ve brought myself off so many times thinking about coming on them after you’ve given me a blowjob. About how your mouth would look with my cock in it. You kneeling in front of me and sucking me. Or a 69. I’d fucking love to 69 you.” His voice was rough and low and Ariadne could feel herself reacting to his images, her hands coming up to stroke her chest, her clit throbbing and wetness seeping onto her thighs.

 

  
“Do you know what I want?” She replied, holding his gaze. “I want your mouth on my pussy. I want to know if those gorgeous lips and talented tongue of yours are as good as advertised. I want to come just from you licking me. I think about sitting on your face and making you go down on me for so long you evolve gills.” She grabbed the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her legs and kicking them off.

“Oh shit, look at you.” Arthur’s hips rose desperately off the bed as he stared at her. “Oh, God,” he pleaded as she came closer, “please, I need—”

 

Ariadne could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest as she put one knee down on the bed next to him.

“Please,” he begged this time, his hands so tight on the bars of the headboard his knuckles were white. His body was trembling as she lifted herself up and moved to straddle his thighs. She carefully put out her hands and ran them down his chest and over his stomach, feeling him so warm and vital under her making her body sing and a groan of her own leave her lips.

 

“Do that again. Let me hear you,” Arthur bucked under her touch, but broke off as her hands wrapped around his cock and began to stroke him.

“You want me to suck you?” She whispered, “I want to taste you. Then I want to fuck you. I want to hear you scream my name.” Arthur’s head rolled back, his eyes screwed shut, the tight column of his neck so tempting she damn near lurched forward and nipped it.

 

She didn’t wait for his answer. Instead she bent forwards, keeping one hand tight around the base of him, opened her mouth and sealed her lips around his cock, letting her other hand dip between his thighs and stroke his balls. Arthur was making a series of incoherent noises that suddenly turned high pitched as she swirled her tongue around him, tasting him from shaft to head. He tasted of salt and a base, animal flavour that flooded her taste buds and just made her crave him even more. She dipped her head back down, only this time she shifted her gaze and looked down his body. Arthur was watching her, his eyes heavy lidded and his arms shaking.

  
“Fuck me,” he bit out. “Please, Ariadne. I want to be inside you. Fuck me.” She felt him groan again as she teased her tongue over him and sat up, raising her hips to bring her body over his. Arthur was panting through his nose as she momentarily rubbed him against her, but her desire for him was too great to draw the moment out any longer. She guided him inside, feeling him slide into the slick heat of her body as she lowered her hips. She was the one panting now, her mouth the one babbling curses, pleas and moans as she braced her hands on his sweat slick chest. Arthur had gone wild eyed by now, his hips making short rabbit thrusts against her as if he simply couldn’t be still. Once she started to rock against him he picked up his pace properly, rising under her as she came forwards to meet him, angling into her thrusts with desperate energy. She felt the bed dip as he pressed his feet down for more traction, and saw the grin cross his face when she let out a loud “Oh, yeah, like that.”

  
“You like that?” He asked breathlessly. “Come on Ariadne; come on baby. Come on, give me more. I want all of you.”

“Like this?” She swivelled her hips and pressed back into him, the gasp she elicited making her grin in turn and do it again.

“Yeah, like that,” his eyes closed as he savoured the sensation, “I want to touch you. I always want to touch you,” he bit his lip as she increased her pace.

“How,” she pleaded, putting her right hand over her clit and pressing down, feeling all the sensation in her body arrowing into her core.

“Like you’re doing right now. I want to do that. I want to touch your breasts. I want to pull your ass down into my lap. I want to kiss you,” his tongue wet his lips, “let me kiss you. Let me touch you. I want to feel you.”

 

Ariadne felt herself tremble under her hand, barely slowing down as she reached out, grabbed Arthur’s right arm and gasped, “Let go.” In an instant his hand was on her left breast, teasing her nipple, massaging the soft swell as he moaned appreciatively.

“That’s it,” he panted as her hips sped up, running his fingers down her torso and over her hip.

“A little more,” he urged as he pushed his hips up to meet hers, pushing her into his thrusts.

“Arthur, I’m so close,” she purred. Her body felt as if it was winding tighter with every second, the sound of their bodies meeting, the look in his eyes, the touch of her hand taking her nearer to the edge.

“Me too, Ariadne, me too,” he panted. He let her ass go and then his fingers were tangled up with hers over her clit, pressing down and rubbing against it along with her. “You’re so close I can feel you squeezing my cock. You’re so wet. You feel so good. Do I feel good? Do you like having me inside you?”

 

  
“Mmm hmm,” she felt her legs tremble as she pushed down against him, everything inside her about to spill over. “Oh God I’m gunna—” she gasped, a million sensations making her start to arch and pulse around him. She felt him pull her towards him, chanting her name so loud it was almost a shout. Her body shook, her fingers pressing into his skin as her orgasm broke over her in a blissful, satisfying wave. All the overheated nerves that had been craving sensation sang with relief, the tension pouring out as she panted his name. She felt herself tighten around him one last time and with that his body rose to meet hers in a desperate, headlong rush, choking out her name in a wail as he did so.

 

Ariadne rode out her aftershocks, feeling Arthur start to relax underneath her, then draped herself over his chest. She trailed her fingers down his neck as he worked his free hand into her hair. His hips kept rising and falling slowly as he licked at the seam of her lips, kissing her as if she was all he needed or had ever wanted.

 

When Ariadne broke off for a moment to breathe, she realised he was smiling at her, a devilish quirk to his lips. “That,” he lifted his head and whispered in her ear, “was better than I ever imagined it would be.” His mouth sealed around her earlobe and she exhaled shakily, feeling the sharp pangs of desire starting again.

“You thought about this?”

“Are you going to tell me you never did?” His lips were working their way down her neck.

“That’s not an answer,” she murmured.

“I have thought about it,” he acquiesced. “I’ve thought about it in many ways,” Ariadne shivered as he found a particularly wonderful spot. “Right there, hmm?” He interrupted himself, happily focusing his attentions on her skin as she began to purr again.  “Did you think about it?” He breathed against her. “Us. Like this?”

“Um hm,” she began to rock against him gently. The brain inflaming buzz that had been inside her before was softening; the urge a lick of flames waiting to be blown into life, rather than a desperate, raging inferno screaming for fuel. It was a thrum inside her, as if she was a string just plucked and waiting to be played again. She could feel Arthur’s erection against her thigh; he was half hard already, but still rocking his pelvis with the same slow, even motion, still gripping the headboard with his left hand as she’d asked.

 

  
Ariadne pulled back from his kisses and cradled his jaw in her hands. He looked back at her, the expression on his face no longer the pained one of when he’d begged her to lock him in. It was satisfied, she thought smugly, pleased even, and the turn of his mouth was hinting at delicious thoughts and promising good things to come.

“How about,” she smiled down at him and dawdled her fingers down to stroke his left arm, “you let go. Then we explore some of those ways that we imagined this would happen.”

 

 

Arthur’s grin blossomed across his face, and in the next instant he rolled them both over so Ariadne was sprawled under him. His left hand meshed with her right and he looked down at her with such anticipation and such tenderness her breath caught in her throat.

“I think,” he leant down and kissed her, the touch making her toes curl with delight, “that’s a wonderful idea.”

 

~*~

 

Ariadne woke up naked, aching, sore and with a head that felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool. The room was mercifully dimmed by the drawn blinds, but fingers of sunlight were forcing their way in through the gaps, bright and unforgiving. She pulled herself up, wincing at her body’s protests. The room around her looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Clothes were still strewn on the floor. A pair of pillows that had been carelessly tossed aside lay crumpled, one by the closet, one sprawled in the doorway. The nightstand had been pushed askew somehow, and the sheets around her were creased, rucked up and marked.

 

She lifted the sheet cautiously to glance over her body, and nearly dropped it again in shock. Bruises in the shape of fingertips and love bites scattered her abdomen, hips and thighs. Her nipples were deep red, tender to the touch and there were more love bites across her chest, coming up towards her clavicles. Her legs and arms felt as if they'd been pulled out and over stretched, and her stomach as if she'd done a hundred sit ups. Worst of all was the soreness between her legs, a protest of swollen tissue and her tender clitoris throbbing from over stimulation.

 

Oh God, what had they done? Last night— no,  _yesterday_ , she corrected herself; yesterday had started out as artificially heightened fucking. But it had turned into a no holds barred sexual marathon and worse, she knew that she couldn’t blame her part all on the pollen. She had wanted Arthur, the connection she had always felt with him had engulfed her, let her get carried away, and he had been so responsive, so willing and so open. Images from the day before engulfed her: his head between her legs; his tongue teasing her clit; his fingers filling her; his mouth on her breasts; his cock in her hands, her mouth, in her pussy as she writhed and begged and pleaded; him behind her; her on top of him; lying back with one leg thrown over his hip; him arching over her; words spilling out of them both in a frenzy of admissions and fantasies. Had it all been hormonal on his part? Was he hiding in the kitchen, working on a nice speech to give them both a graceful get out? She couldn’t bear that. She needed to get up, dress and face him.

 

She was about to gather up one of the sheets and make a run for her room when Arthur appeared, holding a mug in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He paused in the doorway, dressed in briefs and a T shirt, his hair hastily smoothed back and his face unshaven.

 

“Hey,” he smiled gently, seeing her sitting up and came in. “Coffee,” he put the mug down on the crooked night stand, then opened his hand to reveal a small bottle,  “and aspirin. I thought my head was going to split open when I woke up. We worked each other over pretty hard, so,” he sat down cautiously, hissing slightly as he did so. “I let you sleep in so it could wear off some more. How are you feeling?”

Ariadne gulped down two tablets with a slug of coffee, feeling him watching her and trying her best to hold his look with a calm one of her own. “Thanks. I do have a headache and, um,  I’m kind of sore.”

He looked down, rubbing his neck. "I, uh, we can get something for that. I used an ice pack on myself, but I wouldn't recommend it." He half smiled at her, and she tried to smile back, breaking off his glance to grab her coffee and trying to work herself into a comfortable position at the same time. Why was it when she really needed them, all the words and bravado she normally had fled, leaving her like a blushing child? Why was it always Arthur who did it to her? Never mind current circumstances, anything beyond work, what take out to have or friendly banter would leave her dull tongued and stupid headed.

 

"So," she said with false cheer, unable to muster anything else.

Arthur nodded. “So, I called Hamilton, so we’re good to go whenever. But,” he took a breath, “we need to talk about what happened.”

Ariadne felt her insides go cold, but ruthlessly slammed on her professional armour and put on a small, careful smile. “Look, Arthur, it’s OK,” she started.

 

  
“No, Ariadne, its not.” His tone startled her with its vehemence and just as her stomach dropped, feeling full of hard, gray rocks, he leant forward and cradled her head in his hand, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were clear, boring into hers as he spoke. “I want you. As my partner. As my architect. As my lover.” The word reverberated between them, and Ariadne opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off and shook his head. “This isn’t the fucking pollen, OK? This is me.” His thumb brushed her neck, right over the spot he’d kissed to such effect before.

“I didn’t want to wake up and act like I could blame all of what happened between us on a plant. You deserve the truth.”

 

 

“Arthur,” she swallowed, her throat tightening.

"I have wanted you since the first time in Paris. Yesterday happened because I told myself all kinds of stupid shit about working with you and trying to have separation, and I've been telling myself that all this time. But if you don’t want me I will walk away, I promise. We’ll never talk about this again,” his voice was firm. Ariadne reeled. He was handing her the graceful exit she thought he’d had planned for himself on a silver platter.

  
“Arthur,” she tried again.

“I will just be your col—”

“Shut up,” she butted in and his eyes widened fractionally in shock. “All right Arthur? Just shut up and listen to me.” She reached out, grabbed his T shirt and dragged him in for a torrid kiss that left them both breathless. When they broke apart she pressed her forehead to his.

  
“I want you, OK? I want you, even though it's probably a stupid idea in this job. I want you, even if it means more risk or more pain for us both. I want you, because we can never have a happy life if we don't at least try and make one. I want you. I trust you,” she added softly, weaving her fingers into his hair.

His smile was her favourite kind, the wide, dimpled version that lit up his face with genuine warmth that he too often kept concealed. She couldn’t resist kissing him again for it, pure ridiculous happiness and relief filling her from top to toe.

 

"There is just one thing," he murmured as they broke apart.

"What?" She smiled.

"I think I might need some more ice." He started to grin, just as she pulled him very, very carefully back down into their ruined bed.

**Author's Note:**

> AN's-  
> First, I really have to apologise for all the pseudo science. I have a friend who's a botanist and I can hear her screaming from here "Nothing you've said WORKS LIKE THAT!" Take her word for it, its all pretty much gobbledigook cobbled together from the GM crop debate. My knowledge of plant reproduction began with sexual reproduction in perfect flowering plants aged fifteen and ended with the same thing only with more microscope slides two years later. (Oh, and fungi. I can spot gills a mile off.)
> 
> Dr. Caestecker is named after Iain De Caestecker, because it's just a fantastic name and Fitz is excellent.


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